Toping Oneself
by Evolution Of Circuitry
Summary: This is a rather sad fan fiction, slight trigger warnings for things like anxiety, self harm and suicidal thoughts. I wrote this so I could understand myself, to express what I've been through and what I am still going through. Top Man is the character, he wasn't on the character list.


The orange robot master stood in front of a large sink, a mountain of distinguishing dirty crockery. The glasses still smelt of strong ale, as Top Man stood ready to wash in the back of the pub. His eyes were gloomy, like a clouded over thunderstorm, set for heavy rain; a breath escaped him as he went to turn the water on, sealing his fait as chore boy. A groan escaped his mouth, as he felt tempted to turn the water off once more and just leave this job. It wasn't making his terrible life any better. If anything it pulled it down further, just adding more weight to his delicate scales. Giving him stress, and panic attacks and truly bringing out his anxiety. He leashed out another shaky breath, Top Man picked up one the dishes, covered in pieces of food and gravy stains and started to clean, his hands doing the all too familiar motions, round and round like a carousal.. The movement began to distract him, making him wonder into subconscious thought patterns as he began to analyze all his problems and why he was in this mess to begin with.

Starting to think about it was making his circuits fry a little as stress crept up on him like an assassin, attacking him and forcing him to think deeper into all the torments and insults his brothers and Flash Man had thrown at him over the years. A sweat drop ran down his head as he finished off the plate, panicking about finishing all his work when his mind was thinking too much, tearing apart his concentration. Top placed it aside from the dirty crockery and wiped the sweat off his head, starting to take a small break so he had a chance to think. But by stopping he began to analyze his anxiety, it began to consume him, stealing away his insides like a thief and truly stealing away all focus, no matter how anxious not working made him. A sickened feeling filled his body; it was if he was going to throw up some of his oil, he hated that feeling... spewing up oil and the scratching pain it always left in his throat. The sickened feeling always filled him, and metal burn like pains filled his stomach... they followed him everywhere like a shadow and took his appetite away from him, if he wasn't robotic then he'd be even worse for not eating... The stress and anxiety kept him laying awake at night, thinking the way he was now over and over until he would cry himself to sleep, only to wake up over and other.. Left in exhaustion the next day like all the power had been drained out of his metallic body.

And then there were the series of low moods that had come of a result of his anxiety. Usually feeling low, loosing enjoyment in things, crying a lot and being even more prone to upset then he usually was. The moods were deep, and dark, possessing and controlling... like drowning in a sea of never-ending darkness. He was usually very sensitive, delicate to insults like a feather... but now... it was more like the ease of tearing paper apart. He dreaded the day of his very creation, ever since his spinning top like appearance and weak power had always been teased, even by his very brothers. Insult after insult had been thrown at him mercilessly with most force. It has really torn him apart, and was one of the reasons he had become the mess he was today.

Flash Man's voice haunted his mind, a cold harsh, mocking, harmful voice. The voice was like the feeling of a dagger being dragged across his thought. He growled, a tear pricking him.

"You really are worthless. Mega Man defeated you with ease; he beat you black and blue. And just look at you... so you expect to find love and friends with an appearance and personality like yours? Don't make me laugh." The memories flooded him... his body began to shake with a mix of anxiety and pure rage. He picked up the shining pearl white plate he had just worked on and smashed it over the sink.

"SHUT UP." He yelled, only to remember it was only a flashback in his head;

In fact... he dreaded his being so much, that as well as his low moods he was preoccupied with thoughts of death... and desires of suicide. Time and time again he would feel it would be easier to end his life then to suffer his emotions and the tyranny of others any longer. He felt he would finally be at true happiness and freedom from the terrors of life. He hated the fact he was built and living, everything dragged by slowly. Or at least... he wished that robots like him had never been built with the ability to feel so bad.

As a substitute to ending his life, which he had got close to on a number of times...he had inflicted pain upon his living being, Punching his arm over and over, denting the metal and hurting the synthetic skin beneath, which he had also scratched at with blunt objects, leaving small, quick to heal cuts. It was almost an addiction, almost a living suicide for him.

And if all these problems weren't enough... not only did he have his anxiety disorder, but a social anxiety disorder... he hated eye contact or socializing, he got scared and stressed easily in social situations and avoided them when he could help it. It was a phobia... he had very little friends and a general hated and mistrust of most others, a gift of misanthropy thanks to what he had been through in his robotic life for many years...

Top bashed his head against a wall to end his thoughts, as they began to hurt him more and more like they did on a regular basis. Tears began to stream from his eyes, like crystal waterfalls, yet he sobbed quietly so no one could come in and question him. Reluctantly, he picked up another plate and began to do the all too familiar motion once more, helplessly crying many tears... unstoppable tears...


End file.
